Discoveries
by Claritas
Summary: Severus Snape disappeared from the boathouse after being killed by Voldemort. Years later, he appears at the Order's sixth anniversary of the battle party. He's as sullen as ever, but Hermione can't help being drawn to him. Angry at him hiding for so long, she ignores her feelings, and him. Snape copes with being back in the real world, and an odd interest in a certain know-it-all.
1. Discoveries

**A/N: This is my first story I'm doing that will be worthy of having other people read, so please be patient with me. Reviews, as always, are highly appreciated! I haven't written in a while so any tips or constructive critisism is also welcomed :) It might be slow going at first, but stick with me, it'll get better, I promise. Short chapter, but they'll get longer, don't worry!  
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* * *

As she marched down the uneven steps, Hermione wondered what she would find in the old boathouse. She had not wanted to go herself, and had pleaded with anyone and everyone to go in her place. But everyone seemed to have other jobs to do. It made sense, she admitted to herself. There was certainly a lot to be done after the battle, but her task was undoubtedly the one she was least willing to do.

"We can't just leave him there, Hermione. If Snape's still there, and I can't see how he wouldn't be, we need to know, and organize a team to bring him back up to the castle and give him a proper funeral," Harry had informed her, with an air of newfound authority.

Hermione sighed. Why did it have to be her? Did they know something of her fretted-over feelings she refused to admit even to herself? Impossible.

As she neared the boathouse, she slowed almost to a complete stop. Terror and nausea enveloped her at the thought of entering the decrepit stone building. Would she find his body? Mangled and starting smell and attract bugs after the few days he had been dead? She had seen him, Harry had spoken to him, mere moments before he had passed. They had witnessed Voldemort setting his vicious snake on him, just to gain the power he wrongly thought Severus had possessed. Hermione wasn't sure she was ready to see what was left of their Potions Master.

Hermione finally gathered enough courage, stepped through the crumbling archway and looked around the dark space. A single, battered rowboat floated dejectedly in the dark water, tied to a post by a fraying rope. The windows, many broken, all clouded and extremely dirty, let in a tiny splattering of light. The young witch squinted to aid her eyes in adjusting to the dark surroundings.

"Professor Snape?" she whispered into the darkness. As soon as she uttered those words, she smiled inwardly at herself, and immediately felt horrible for smiling at a time like this. Even if he was indeed still here, he was certainly in no fit state to answer. Carefully tiptoeing to the wall where he had been murdered, she gave a small gasp. Bloodstains surrounded the area where her professor had lain, but Snape was nowhere to be found.

"S-Severus? What happened to you?" She was mostly speaking to herself at this point, as different emotions raged in a silent battle inside her head. Fear, for what had happened to him? Had Voldemort or another death eater taken him away? Loss, knowing she would never see him again, not even as a dead man. And relief, in knowing she did not have to see the man she had feared and admired, lying on the cold hard ground, dead.

Hermione burst through the doors to the great hall and lurched to a stop, her eyes scanning the room searching for Harry. He was standing near the shattered house point counters, instructing a group of fourth years on their various tasks. She ran over to him, still gasping for air after running all the way from the boathouse.

"He's gone! Vanished! All the bloodstains are still there, nothing missing except for… well, him."

Harry gaped at her, and the fourth years looked back and forth between them, then set off the complete their duties.

"…Gone. Just… disappeared? But how? He certainly didn't have enough strength to drag himself away, he practically died in my arms. D-Do you think… did another Death Eater take him away? Or Voldemort himself, maybe he came back for him?" He scrambled for words, trying to find an explanation.

"I don't know Harry, but whatever it is, we're not getting him back." An intense sense of loss filled Hermione, frustrating her. _Stop it. He was just your potions master. You hated him. Alright, he was brilliant, but you still hated him. Get over it. _She tried to convince herself, but she knew it was more than that. _Stop it! _She scolded herself, and turned her focus back to Harry, who was fretting about the news.

"But what will the Daily Prophet say? They expect a detailed description of his life and his efforts in the war, how he was a spy and all that. But they also expect coverage on his funeral! How are we supposed to have one when we don't have… him? And everyone else, they were planning on attending his funeral too. Saying last goodbyes, thank you's, all that. What're we going to do, 'Mione?"

"Harry, it's okay. We can still have a funeral, a memorial of his life. Everybody can still attend; say what they need to say. The Daily Prophet can still cover it," A single tear rolled down Hermione's face, and she rushed to brush it away with her sleeve. She had wanted to have a chance to say goodbye, one last time. To him. Not some memory, or a framed picture on an altar. Him, as dead as he may be.

Harry nodded, an unsatisfied expression on his face as he scurried away to address some other issue. He had become the expert, the Hero, and he now needed to do everything, apparently. Of course, Hermione had her fair share of the attention, but he was still _the one,_ the killer of the Dark Lord and the bringer of happiness to the wizarding world. And she was fine with that.

* * *

The funeral was a small affair, with Hogwarts students, teachers, some Daily Prophet reporters, and a few friends. The Malfoy family sat quietly in the back, keeping very much to themselves.

Part way through, Harry got up and made a speech. About how his parents grew up with Snape, how his mother was "good friends" with him. Of course, nothing about how the group of friends tormented him. He spoke of how throughout the war, Snape had been of unfailing fealty to Dumbledore for his entire life, and after his death. Always playing both sides, with such expertise many truly couldn't be sure which side he was really on. Harry told the audience how without Snape, his spy efforts and everything else he did, for Harry and for everyone else, his victory would not have been possible. A standing ovation met the end to his long, heartfelt speech. Before Harry went back to his seat, however, he leaned towards the microphone once more.

"He was horrible to me, and we hated each other, but he was a good man." A few laughed at this, and the clapping continued for several minutes before it finally died down.

The rest of the memorial continued without much eventfulness. Ron, who had been forced to stay with his family since immediately after the battle (while mourning Fred's death) had come for the funeral and escorted Harry and Hermione back to the Burrow after it concluded to stay for the time being.


	2. Celebrations

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, no characters, places, etc. All of this came out of J.K. Rowling's brilliant mind and I'm just adding on because I can't stand that it's over. **

**A/N: Hey everybody! Haven't really finalized edits on this chapter, but I wanted to get it up. Enjoy the party! (keep it up with the reviews, you guys are so great!)**

**This chapter I wrote twice, and had two different endings. I think this one will fit in with the story better, so I hope you like it! **

* * *

Clothes were strewn everywhere. Hermione frantically drew outfit after outfit out of her closet, scowling. Occasionally holding something up in front of her to see her reflection in the mirror, then grimacing and throwing it behind her with one hand, already reaching for the next piece of clothing with the other. Ron had finally asked her on a date, as Harry told her he wanted to. Why he had waited so long, Hermione had no idea. Their kiss during the battle had been, well, soggy, but also quite nice. The problem was they hadn't had any time to discuss their feelings, and after she left the burrow to live with her parents for the remainder of the year, they had grown slowly apart.

When the annual Christmas and anniversary of the battle parties had begun, they'd started to grow close again, gradually rekindling their feelings for each other. Ron soon was completely smitten, Hermione less so. She liked him very much, but she was just not into it.

She wasn't in the mood for dating, she was perfectly happy in her mainly solitary life. She had a good job in the Ministry with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and was making real headway in her equality appeals.

Looking into her now empty closet, she sighed. How she wished she didn't have to go on this date. Couldn't they just spend time together at the anniversary party? She'd much rather just go to that then skip it to spend time exclusively with him. _I guess it does make sense, though. The battle is when we first expressed our attraction for each other in some way. The anniversary of that day would be a good time for our first real date,_ she thought resentfully. Hermione turned back to the giant pile of clothes on and around her bed. She rummaged through until she found a stretch of red fabric.

Looking at herself in the mirror, the witch allowed herself a small smile. It was tight, knee length, with capped sleeves and a deep – but not _too_ revealing – v-neckline. Admittedly, she did look quite good. Slipping on little silver flats, she grabbed her purse and rushed out the door.

* * *

The party was going quite well. Harry and Ginny were playing a vicious game of wizard's chess, playfully taunting and fighting with each other as the game progressed. George was showing Minerva, Kingsley, and Arthur some new products he had been working on for the shop, which was just getting back to normal after Fred's death, five years ago today. Ron and Hermione were lounging on a couch in the sitting room, happily chatting to Molly and Fleur. Ron had decided to skip the date in favor of the party, seeing as the pouring rain and sleet outside made it impossible to go anywhere without either getting soaked or completely depressed, or both. Ron's arm rest on the back of the sofa, protectively curled around behind Hermione's shoulders. She was having a surprisingly good time, enjoying Ron's company and the company of her good friends in the Order.

"And after that disaster, I decided I really should learn more about muggle plugs and all that electricity stuff. My hair wouldn't flatten down for two weeks!" Molly laughed good naturedly at her own misfortune, along with Ron, Hermione, and Fleur.

"Oh, Molly! I believe I saw a book in one of the upstairs bedrooms on muggle electricity and technology, would you like me to see if I could find it for you?" Hermione smiled, anticipating an exciting excursion back into the recesses of dusty rooms full of books she loved so much.

"That would be simply marvelous, Hermione dear! Are you sure you wouldn't mind?"

"Of course not, you know my adoration for books," Hermione grinned, then spun around and raced upstairs to the darkest bedroom (which also happened to be the one with the most books).

A chair waited for her, beckoning for her to come explore the endless shelves of old leather-bound tomes. _Ah, right where I left you. _The witch took a few deep breaths, sucking the scent of old parchment, leather, and ink up through her nose and down into her lungs. Heaving a little sigh of contentment, she settled down into her favourite chair and prepared for an enjoyable search. She fully intended to take her sweet time, and Molly wouldn't need the book right away. Ron shouldn't – _Oh! Ron! _She had never even acknowledged him or asked if it was okay before racing up to the secluded corners of the old house. It was still a date, so maybe she should go back for him. _Nah, he'll understand. I'll apologize later._ _Ron can go follow George around asking about the merchandise like I know he's been wanting to all night._ After she had convinced herself it was okay, she began rifling through the old tomes, making sure not to damage any of the ancient parchment. Occasionally - more like every two books – she would open one randomly and read a few pages, creating a mix-and-match story of her own.

It must have been an hour and a half later when she heard footsteps coming up the stairs outside the door. The door pushed open, revealing a slightly nervous Ron Weasley. He knew better than to interrupt her while she was enthralled in her books.

"Er… Hermione? S-Sorry to bother you, but… I was just wondering if you had found the book yet?"

Hermione sighed to herself, and put the book she was reading back on the shelf, nestled between two enormous volumes on various potions ingredients and their side effects and possible drawbacks from certain transfiguration spells.

"Yes, Ronald. It's right here." Shuffling over to a far shelf, she plucked a small bright blue book from the shelf without even searching for it. Handing it to him, she hesitated. "Will you… could you bring this down to your mother?"

"Oh, you're… you're not going to come back down? You've spent so long up here with these dusty old books, you must be bored by now. Come down with me, will you?" He gazed around the dark room reproachfully, as if it were stealing Hermione from him. Maybe in a way it was, Hermione mused.

"Sorry, Ron. I really do like it up here, I'm sorry you don't feel the same way. I… I think I might spend a little longer, but I'll be down soon. Promise," She smiled apologetically at him. Ron hesitated, and then nodded slowly. He came over and lightly kissed her cheek, and then he was gone.

It was a few minutes later when Hermione realized she was tensed up from him kissing her cheek. She had braced herself against it. What was wrong with her? She liked him, truly, but the affectionate move felt wrong to her. Admittedly, she could just be annoyed with him over his lack of interest in books, her one true love, but it seemed like more. Shaking her head, she shoved the thought to the back of her mind as she perused the remainder of the second shelf of books.

* * *

It was some time later when she glanced out the window, surprised to see the moon high in the pitch black sky, stars blocked by the thick, heavy storm clouds. As she wandered over to the window, she could hear voices downstairs, laughing and joking. Many of the members of the order had probably had quite a lot of firewhiskey and were plenty drunk. These parties went quite late, and even though she presumed it was quite late into the night, possibly reaching into the earliest moments of morning, it would not be ending for a while yet.

Her attention was brought back to the road outside when she sensed movement. Peering out the rain-splattered window, she could see a cloaked figure striding along the dark cobblestoned street. A sudden sense of remembrance filled her with each long stride, someone walking with an air of purpose. For some reason this person – was it the way they were walking, or something else? – made her feel as if there were something missing. She knew she should remember something, something important, but it was lost. She shook her head, still staring as the shadow stopped before the door to Grimmauld Place, obviously seeing it quite fine. _So they're a wizard, or a witch. Magical, at least. _

It wasn't a scare for someone unknown to be able to see the house, as it would have been during the war, when only trusted members of the Order knew of its existence. As tales had spread after the final battle, it became known as a house of major importance to the war, a temporary home of so many of the heroes that had brought the wizarding world peace. People respected the dwelling, many even wished to visit it, but it was kept private. For the Order only.

The figure gazed upon the stone abode only a moment longer, and then continued out into the night. Soon they were gone. Hermione blinked a couple times, still staring at the spot where the person, whom she now thought to be male (the way he walked, held himself, etc.) had disappeared. She shook her head, bringing her mind back to her present state. _It doesn't matter, he's gone, s_he told herself sternly. But as she turned back to the huge bookshelves, Hermione couldn't shake that man from her mind.

* * *

It was very late – or early, she amended – when Hermione finally made her way down the flights of dark wooden stairs. She quietly shuffled into the kitchen, and spotted Ron sitting with Harry and Ginny, looking remarkably unhappy. Sighing, she walked over and sat beside him, the old sofa sinking a little further towards the carpet with her added weight. Ron turned to her, smiling, his mood improving already.

Soon, everyone was saying their goodbyes and heading out into the chill of early morning. The rain had stopped and the puddles covering the street reflected the gloomy sky. Hermione turned to say goodbye to Ron, but he cut her off.

"Would you like me to walk you home? Or, well, apparate you home, but you know what I mean."

"Oh! Sure, Ron. If it's no trouble."

He shook his head, and the walked out the door together, Hermione closing it behind her. They walked into the small park across the road and disapparated, Hermione clutching Ron's arm. With a sharp _crack! _they appeared in an alley in a cute little neighbourhood in muggle London. Around the corner and up the street sat the witch's house. Ron, offering his arm, led her up the sidewalk in the rapidly increasing daylight. Hermione walked up the wooden steps and began to rummage for her key in her purse, but Ron put his hand on her arm, stopping her. She looked up at him, questioningly.

"So, uh… I had a nice time with you tonight, Hermione. Next time, maybe, we could go somewhere more special. How's that?" She nodded hesitantly, and he continued. "I-I really shouldn't have left it so long before asking you out, I'm sorry. I was just… nervous, I guess? But I do really like you, and…"

_Oh dear, this is getting awkward. Ron, just let me go inside. Stop yourself the embarrassment. _Hermione thought to herself, as Ron kept blabbering on.

"…and then Harry got really mad at me, saying instead of just talking about you and saying how sorry I was that I hadn't made any effort to be closer to you, and that I should just go and 'ask the bloody girl out already' and so I did, and I guess it was a good thing! Because you said yes, and it went well, I think. It did go well, didn't it? I haven't dated in a while, so I don't really know… I mean, I still remember stuff from when we were in school… but, oh, nevermind. Oh, wow, it's bright out! We've been up all night! Oh, I guess you probably want to sleep, I should go. Well, goodnight Hermione. Or… good morning? Whatever."

Hermione gave a small sigh of relief that he was finished, but it was cut short by Ron leaning in towards her face, slowly closing his eyes.

_Oh shit. He's going to kiss me. Do I want to kiss him? Yes, Hermione, of course you want to kiss him. You like him. Do I? I don't really know. Oh god. What do I do?_

Hermione panicked, turning her head at the last minute, and Ron planted a kiss on her cheek. Surprised, he leaned back, and she gave him a kiss of her own on his cheek. Smiling, she found her key and stuffed it in the lock.

"Thanks Ron. I'll see you later? Owl me about our next date, okay?" Ron looked slightly bewildered, but slowly nodded and retreated down the steps.

She shut the door behind her, and leaned against it. Sliding down until she was sitting, she rubbed her face with her hands. This relationship stuff was never going to get any easier, was it?


	3. Sightings

**Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 2, if you really think I'd take credit for any of this, other than my own sections of plotlines, than there's something wrong with you, bud. **

**A/N: Chapter 3! I hope you like this one. It skips around a bit, hopefully it still makes sense. Don't forget to review! It helps me improve which in turn gives you a better reading experience!**

* * *

The grocery store was packed with customers, all scurrying around trying to get supplies before the store ran out. It was an irregularly hot summer in London and there were warnings of a drought spreading throughout southern England. Muggles rushed up to the checkout, carting multiple cases, bottles, and cans of water and other drinks. Employees were struggling, many breaking under the intense pressure and leaving early. Soon the lack of workers meant there could only be one till open, and the queue stretched longer, winding between the aisles.

Hermione pushed her shopping cart through the masses of people, and sighed. She urged to simply pull out her wand and _aguamenti _them all in the face. That would settle things. Of course, it would also inform the muggle world that she was a witch, thereby exposing the wizarding world. She would never seriously consider actually doing it, but she could dream, couldn't she?

The line stretched even further, weaving through almost every aisle in the small grocery store. Hermione tried to avoid the people as best as she could, but of course sometimes it was necessary to "Pardon me," and "Sorry, excuse me," her way through the crowd. Many of the items on her list lay on the shelves which were currently partaking in their part-time job of maze walls.

She was at the back wall, picking through some fancy cheeses, when a man passed by her, tall and clad in heavy black material. She thought it seemed odd, given the weather. He strode over to the meat section, where he stopped to peruse the selection of different animal parts. He stood straight and tall, with his back to her. He reached and plucked some lean chicken breast off the shelf, and turned towards long line. Hermione could see the back of his head moving as he traced the line with his eyes all the way from the till through the aisles until it extended out through the door. His shoulders slumped. The man stood there for a second, and then paced towards the till, his hand fishing around in his pocket. As he neared the employee desperately working the cash register, he caught his attention, waved the chicken breast for him to see, and then dropped the pile of coin he had seized from his pocket onto the counter.

Hermione watched the man start towards the exit as she peered around one of the aisles. Suddenly, she was moving, copying the man once she got to the cash register. She gestured to her basket full of items, and dropped a fifty pound note on the counter, beside the coin that had not yet been moved. _I can bring the basket back later, _she thought, and rushed out the door.

She needed to catch up to him. This man, she had seen him before. He was the cloaked figure she had watched hurry down the lane outside Grimmauld Place in the dark hours of night. The same remembrance filled her when she saw him again, as well as feelings of joy, excitement, and confusedness. These feelings she could not explain, but she was sure if she caught the man they would be explained for her.

"Wait, stop!" He ignored her.

The basket full of food was slowing her down. Hermione dropped it in between the wall of the shop and a tree, promising herself she would come back for it later. But when she looked up again to continue her pursuit, he was gone. _Shit!_ The witch stomped her foot in frustration. Oh, now she felt childish. Scowling at herself, she grabbed the basket off the ground, and disapparated back to her flat.

* * *

The wind was icy as it blew in gusts around the library, rattling its thin windows. A fire blazed in the hearth, which kept the chilly temperatures of late December at bay. Hermione sat nestled in an armchair with a large book clenched between her hands. Her eyes scanned the page at an amazing rate, her hands barely keeping up as she turned page after page. An ever-growing pile of books surrounded her. Without removing her eyes from the book, she reached to the side table, waving her hand around until she grasped the handle of her mug. She brought the edge to her lips and took a sip, her eyes still swiveling back and forth in their sockets as the book revealed its meaning to her. She grimaced and opened her mouth, letting the cold tea dribble back into its cup. Her mug was placed back on its coaster and her book closed and stacked on top of the others. Another one finished.

A quiet groan escaped her mouth as she slowly rose from her comfy spot. Lazily shuffling towards a towering shelf, she began the arduous – yet enjoyable – process of picking out more books. Her search continued for some time, as she did not want to get cozy again with only one or two books, she would finish them and have to get up again much too soon. She reached for the next book in the row and flipped it over so she could see its title. _The Tales of Beedle the Bard. _Oh, that certainly brought back memories. She went to put it back, but her hand hesitated. Maybe she would read it, just for old time's sake.

Hermione looked back to the shelf, and noticed the space left by the books she had taken had left an opening. Sticking her face close to it to see through, she realized she could see all the way to the front desk. She nodded, simultaneously acknowledging the possible usefulness of this gap and saving this to her memory in case of the slight chance it may come of use to her at some other time.

It turned out, however, that the space between the large volumes became useful almost immediately. Her attention was caught by the ringing or the small bell on the desk. As the librarian came out to greet the individual, Hermione's breath caught. The person standing at the desk, now writing something down on a small notepad, was none other than her mysterious man. He handed the notepad to the lady waiting, and she nodded and walked into her office, motioning for him to wait a moment.

Hermione jumped away from the bookshelf and ran around, trying to find a way through the maze that the tall, book-filled walls created. After a few aggravating moments, she found the right way and raced towards the front of the building.

As the frantic witch weaved and swerved her way to the desk, the man standing turned. Noticing the wild girl racing towards her, he started, and looked back at the doorway in which the librarian had gone through. Seeing as she was still not back, he took a furtive glance at the girl, who was coming closer by the second. The piles of books and scattered armchairs increased the difficulty of her pursuit no doubt, but she would still be to him very soon. He could not wait any longer. She was watching her feet, so as to not trip, and had not seen him looking at her. He turned and ran. Out the door, tugging it closed behind him without looking back. There was a muted thud as Hermione crashed into the door. She had almost caught him, so when he shut the door immediately behind him, she did not have time to react. By the time she had risen painfully to her feet and pushed open the door, he was long gone.

The librarian had returned to her desk, and was staring at Hermione with an unhappy, astonished look on her face. Hermione ran back to her.

"Did you know that man? Who he was? I need to know! Did he give you his address, telephone number, anything? Even his name?" She was frantic. There was no way she was going to lose him again.

"No, dear. He just asked for a book. I know nothing of him. I am sorry. I could give you the book he asked for, if you would like?" She seemed not to mind that Hermione had been sprinting and leaping in her library, certainly causing an awful lot of commotion.

"Oh. Er… yes! Please!"

The book she was handed a moment later surprised her. It was nothing fancy, nothing mysterious. She ran her finger over the embellished words. _The Tales of Beedle the Bard._

This man was becoming more and more intriguing to her. Maybe he was foreign, a spy perhaps? Or possibly, he was dangerous. A Death Eater, or formerly one? Hiding from everybody? But this book. A popular children's story book? What significance could that have? Unless… was he interested in the Deathly Hallows? No. He couldn't be. She wouldn't let herself believe it.

* * *

It was February 14th, Valentine's day. Hermione found herself accompanying Ron as they huddled together for warmth on their walk through Hogsmeade. Having both hurriedly declined going to Madam Puddifoot's, they agreed happily on The Three Broomsticks, their old hangout from their time as students.

The warm, scented air enveloped them as they hurried through the doorway, quickly shutting the door behind them as to not let in any cold air. Madam Rosmerta led them to a comfortable seat near the back, a cozy fire crackling in the hearth beside them.

"This is nice. Reminds me of old times," Hermione spoke with an affectionate tone to her voice, remembering their many memories of their adventures at Hogwarts. "You know, I really miss it, sometimes. Hogwarts, I mean."

"Yeah. I get it. Well, except for all the homework. And, well, lessons. And the teachers. But, other than that, yeah I miss it sometimes," Ron smiled, taking her hand in his. "Hermione, I want you to know. I really like you, truly. A lot. And… well I hope you feel the same way, because I've got something for you." He let go of her hand to reach deep into his pocket.

After a moment he pulled his hand out of his pocket, and clutched in it was a small ring. He held it out.

"It's a promise ring. I… I want to be with you, forever, if I can. I'm not engaging, don't worry."

Hermione, shocked by his gift, caught sight of movement outside the window. A cloaked figure was walking down the snowy street. A figure she very well recognized.

I'm not ready to do that, and I think that neither of us are in a point of our lives where we'd be ready to get married. But, when we are, this is a promise. A promise that, when we're ready, we can get engaged, and then, y'know." He looked up at Hermione, who was completely distracted, staring out the window and not paying the least bit of attention to anything he was saying.

"Hermione? Did…were you listening to anything I said? I-"

"Oh, er, yes Ron. I heard you." She reluctantly turned head away from the window, a look of frustration clear on her face. "Um, thank you." She took it, hesitated, then slid it on her thin finger.

She turned and stared out the window once more. Ron looked at her, and followed her gaze out the window. Seeing nothing, he frowned.


	4. Revealings

It was another year, another May 1st. Another year to remember those that they had lost; friends, family, even strangers. The people who had fought bravely, or the ones who ran away. It was a day to remember the victory, but all the losses as well. To remember the battle took place over the night of the first and the morning of the second. The anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts.

But tonight, it was a party. The mourning would come later, as the families of the order trudged home after the late night to weep over their sons and daughters, husbands and wives, or anyone else they had known. The party was loud, slightly crazy, and nobody could possibly be sad. Especially if George and Ron had anything to do with it.

Ron and Hermione ambled up the cobblestones, hand in hand. Ginny peered through the open window, just as Ron said something and Hermione threw her head back laughing. Ginny smiled. She was so happy to see her brother and her best friend finally getting along, after those many years of awkwardness and hidden glances. It was about time, too. It had been obvious to Ginny, if no one else, that Ron had fallen head over heels for Hermione since the first time he had met her. Like all teenage boys do, instead of confessing his feelings, he tried to be mean or make fun of her instead. But over the years, they had become good friends, only making fun of each other in a friendly way that they knew neither of them would take seriously.

Hermione, on the other hand, was different. Never was she incredibly smitten with Ronald, but whether that was because she was too busy being the best student Hogwarts had ever had or for some other reason Ginny did not know. But she did look quite happy, holding hands with Ron as they strolled up to the stone residence.

* * *

"She seemed pretty distracted, so I got worried that she wouldn't want it or wasn't ready for something like that," Ron explained. "But she took it and after we left she seemed pretty happy. Things have been fine ever since."

They were in the sitting room, Ron explaining to Harry and Ginny (who was sporting a newly received engagement ring) about his and Hermione's Valentine's Day date together, and her reaction to the ring he gave her. They smiled at each other, and Ron gave her a light kiss. She kissed him back, but not as wholeheartedly as Ginny would have thought, by looking at how happy they seemed together.

As the other guests arrived, the house slowly got louder. The added voices mingling together along with the music that was now playing in the background created quite a cacophony. Hermione found herself once again lounging on a couch across from Molly and Fleur, the latter who was heavily pregnant.

"We think zat eet eez going to be a boy," Fleur announced. "Alzough as we have not gotten any tests done, zere eez no way to be sure."

Her accent was getting less pronounced, Hermione noted. Of course it was still obvious and there were many times she could still not understand what she was saying.

Bill walked in at that point, and leaned down to lightly kiss the top of Fleur's head. "Well, _she _thinks it will be a boy. I think it is more that she hopes it is a boy, but who knows, she's the one carrying the baby inside of her. Maybe it's some weird telepathic thing mothers can do. Personally, I won't mind either way, although I do think it would be nice to have a girl."

Molly laughed. "Well, if there _is_ some telepathic way to tell your baby's gender, I certainly never figured it out. I'm just happy I had at least one girl, and that they weren't _all_ crazy little boys." She smiled lovingly at the two of her sons; Ron and Bill, who were in the room with her.

"Well, when _I _have kids, I want half and half," Ron spoke up.

Molly turned and looked at Hermione, who couldn't help noticing Molly glance down at her promise ring before speaking. "And what would be your preference, Hermione?"

Hermione flushed. "I…I think I'd like a boy and at least one girl. Girls always seem more willing to learn from an early age, so maybe more than one. It would be fun being able to teach them stuff, read to them, show them all the books I love, things like that."

"As long as you don't disappear upstairs to read for hours when we're trying to have a date!" Ron laughed. Hermione knew he was referring to last year's anniversary party, their first real date, when she had spent almost the entire evening and early morning upstairs in the smallest bedroom reading book after book.

"Yes, I promise I won't do that again!" Hermione laughed along with him. "That wasn't very nice of me, was it? I left you alone for hours, and even when you came to get me I just sent you away and kept reading!" Now the entire group was laughing, not _at_ Hermione, but with her, and the fact that she would have much rather been with books than with Ron.

Soon it was time for cake. Hermione had missed it last year because she was, of course, upstairs reading. But this year she was very much in the mood for cake, and was frustrated when they had to wait for Arthur to arrive after working late at work before they could hand out the slices. It was her favourite, ice cream cake from a small muggle shop near her home, named Monarch's Dairy. Not only did it sell the best ice cream and cakes, it also sold amazing cheeses, yogurts, and fine milk. Hence the name Dairy. This particular cake had little bits of mint chocolate in it, Hermione had picked it out herself. She loved mint, so much that the strongest love potion, Amortentia, smelled partially of mint toothpaste to her. As well as freshly cut grass and new parchment.

Ginny raced into the kitchen as soon as she heard the knob turn in the front door. "He's here! We can have cake now, right?"

"Yes, Ginny, it's finally time for cake." Molly smiled. She turned and picked out the cake knife from the drawer behind her.

Arthur's rumbling voice came from the hall. "Time for cake indeed." He sounded oddly very grim, but with a small tone of badly hidden surprise.

His footsteps thudded against the wood floors as he slowly stepped into the kitchen. There was someone standing behind him, Hermione noticed, hidden in the shadows.

"I've brought a friend with me tonight, who I think you all should meet." Yes, a definite solemnness to his voice.

Arthur stepped forward and to the side, leaving space for the guest to enter the room. They paused for a moment before stepping in slowly. The light shone down on them, but with a hood still covering most of their face, they were unidentifiable. Except to Hermione. This person –this man – was very familiar to her. He was in her mind in both her waking and sleeping hours, never leaving. She had caught sight of him on multiple occasions, him always disappearing before she got a chance to do anything. And now here he was, standing before her in his long black cloak.

Long fingers rose slowly to the rim of his hood, and then lightly pushed it off the back of his head. The room filled with a stark, eerie silence. Molly dropped the knife she was holding, narrowly missing her feet. It hit the floor with a clatter, echoing around the room like a bell chiming in a clock tower.

Hermione slipped off the stool she was sitting on. Her face was an open canvas displaying pain, disbelief, horror, betrayal, and a tiny, tiny bit of happiness. But as the pain and betrayal became so strong they washed away the other emotions, and anger bubbled up to the surface of her consciousness. Burying her face in her hands, she shoved past the man, almost knocking him into the counter, and ran up the many flights of stairs as fast as her slim legs could go.

* * *

**A/N: So, the great reveal! I bet most of you can guess who it will be, but why don't you tell me in a review? Also, I would love to know which parts you liked, or didn't like in this chapter. Maybe a favourite line? Any predictions on what will happen next, with Hermione, the mysterious person, or anyone else?  
There is a fair amount of fluff in this chapter, but I needed some time to explain what was happening after jumping through an entire year in the last chapter. Hope you guys don't mind! The next chapter will either take a while to write, or barely any time at all. So keep an eye out for updates!**

**-C xo**


	5. Explanations

**A/N: Okay. Little disappointed in the amount of feedback I got for that last chapter. C'mon, guys. Anyways, maybe you'll reward me for getting this chapter up so quickly with a little R&R. I actually quite like this chapter, maybe just because I like writing rants. You even get two in this chapter! Hope you enjoy, read on.**

**One more thing, thanks a million to dragoon811 for letting me take her idea for Snape not being able to speak! It really adds so much more to the dynamics of the story, as demonstrated in her story Another Dream. **

* * *

Snape. Severus Snape. Their Potions Master for five years, Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for one. Professor, headmaster, spy, all the things Hermione had known him as over the years. He was feared, hated, and by a few; admired. Hermione had been one of those few. She had never told her friends about this, mostly because of their intense hatred of the man, but she indeed admired him. He was brilliant. Especially after the whole Half-Blood Prince fiasco. Although she had pretended otherwise to Harry, she thought those additions and changes were fantastic. They worked perfectly, even made the potions easier to make and take less time, as well as make them more effective. When Hermione had found out that this mastermind was none other than Professor Snape, she had been only partially surprised. It just proved what she knew already, his wisdom and wit above all others she knew.

Severus Snape. The man that Voldemort had killed, right before their very eyes. The man that was brutally attacked by a vicious snake, who in his last moments gave Harry his most important memories. The man that did his best and made the most difference in the war, who got absolutely no credit. The man who was hated, despised, loathed, with all those intensified by the fact that most thought he was truly on Voldemort's side, spying on Hogwarts and Dumbledore.

Severus Snape. The man that had died right in front of them. The man that was at this very moment standing floors below her in the kitchen.

* * *

After many minutes of stunned silence, Arthur spoke. "Oh, come now. Don't look so scared! You should be happy! He survived, after all!" He turned to look at Severus happily, and then looked back at the still silent crowd of people, obviously wondering why they weren't celebrating.

"But… he died. I… we watched him die!" Ron was next to speak.

"Arthur, and… Sir," Harry inclined his head towards Severus. "There must be some mistake. I held Severus Snape in my arms as he uttered his last words, took his last breath. He offered me his memories right before he… well, before he died. That's it, he _died. _So whoever this… this _man_ is, he is certainly not Snape."

Arthur seemed aghast at the reactions he was receiving. "Okay, people. Let's try this again. I have just brought home the man who was invaluable to the war efforts, who gave everything he had – including his _life_ – to make sure we succeeded in the war. Now it turns out he's _alive, _after _six years. _And all you can do is claim that, what, that this isn't him? That this man is somehow an imposter, pretending to be a man that has been dead for six years? Or is he an illusion?" Arthur's voice was rising. "This man could have been the difference between our life and death, the safety of our loved ones! And all you do is tell me IT'S NOT REALLY HIM?" He took a deep breath, his face flushed with colour after his angry speech. "Severus," he said, turning to the guest, his voice now dangerously soft. "Could you please pull down your collar?"

Severus nodded, and slowly those same hands that had pushed down his hood tugged down his high jacket collar.

Long scars traversed the left side of his neck. The deep gashes were now pink with smooth, thick scar tissue. The entire party gasped at the mangled skin that was his neck. No imposter could have faked this, unless they had purposefully let themselves get brutally attacked by a snake who intended to kill them. There was no way magic could create something like this, and even muggle costume make-up wasn't this good.

"Professor? Is… is that really you?" Harry couldn't seem to keep his jaw from falling open.

Severus sneered and nodded. He waved his arm theatrically and gave Harry a deep bow.

"But… how did you survive? Why did you not come back sooner? Hiding away for all those years, Severus, we were convinced you were dead for _six years!_" It was Minerva that spoke now, her voice soft and caring.

Severus looked expectantly at Arthur, who was staring at him along with the rest before be jumped to attention. "Oh! Yes, well one minor problem. You see, after the injuries he received from the snake attack, he cannot speak. The snake must have gotten his vocal chords, you see. Whether it will heal or not is unknown, although it seems to have made no improvement over the last six years."

The group looked startled by this flood of information, so Arthur continued.

"I know all this because he sought me out at work today, which is why I told you all I had to work late. He came and told me what had happened, and also one other thing. Over the past year, he had accidentally run into Miss Granger multiple times, although he was careful to keep his identity hidden. After a while she started to notice that she kept running into this mysterious person, and made efforts to find out who he was, but to no avail. This knowledge could help us understand why Hermione had a… er… substantially bigger reaction. Does anyone know if we should leave her up there, or if one of us should go talk to her?"

* * *

There was a hesitant knock on the door. "Hermione?" It was Ron. He was quiet, his voice sweet and soft. "Hermione, may I come in?"

She nodded, and then when she realized that he could not, in fact, see her, she spoke.

"Yes. Yeah, you can come in."

He slowly pushed open the door, and found Hermione sitting in a far corner hugging her knees.

"Hey, are you okay? Why did you run away?"

"He…I… er, nothing. I'm sorry." She looked up at him and sighed.

"It's okay, Hermione. It was a shock to us all. Would you… do you need to be left alone for a bit longer?"

"No, I think I'm okay. Thanks for coming up here. Let's go back down."

Ron led the way down the stairs, Hermione trailing behind. They walked into the kitchen, Ron stopped but Hermione kept walking. She moved past Snape without even acknowledging his presence, and then continued into the sitting room.

Severus followed her in. Everyone else decided it was best to keep their distance and stayed on the far side of the kitchen. Snape started to sit down beside her, but she stood up before he could.

Hermione raised her hand, and slapped him hard across the face.

"You think you can just follow me around for a year, all the while hiding your true identity?" Her voice was rising, and nobody had trouble hearing what she said, even Kreacher, who was sneaking around upstairs. "You think, after _six freaking years_ that you can just waltz in here and expect to be welcomed back with open arms? That might work for the others, but not for me. You let us all think you were _dead. _Not for a little while, not even for an entire year. You made us think you were dead and gone for six. Six whole years. To the day, in fact. That does things to people, _professor._" She sneered as she called him by his old title. "We mourned for you. We had a funeral, talked about all the wonderful things you did with your life, how you got no credit and now it's too late. We HATED you, and yet we spoke of your brilliance, your duties in the war. We said you were a _good man. _Are you? Are you a good man? Because as far as I know, good men don't let the closest thing they have to friends think that they're dead. For SIX YEARS, Snape! Don't you get it? We were sad. We mourned. We had a funeral, and got on with our lives. Every year we have a party, on the anniversary of the battle. And then you come back, after all this time, and expect us to, what, redo all of that? Everything we've built up to keep ourselves from breaking down at the mere thought of that night? Because for me, personally, those walls, those enormous, unbreakable brick walls just came crashing down around me. And really, I don't know what to do about it. So while you stand here waiting for everybody to celebrate your return, I'm going home." She turned to the crowd, who were standing open-mouthed in the doorway. "Goodnight. Sorry for the yelling."

And with that, she turned and marched out the door without looking back.


	6. Aftermath Part 1

**A/N: thanks for the little increase in reviews! To the person that asked about my choice to have Snape die in the boathouse, you're right! He does die in the shrieking shack! In the book. In the movie, he dies in the boathouse. I must have had the movie on my mind, which is really disappointing to me, because I love the books so much more than the movies. But even considering my little accidental jump into the movieverse, I think it worked out quite well for that chapter. And anyways, I'm back and don't intend to jump there again. **

**To worrywart, you're right! He did seem a bit out of character, I think it was because after the excitement of Snape revealing himself to Arthur and explaining his story, Arthur was very excited to have him back and even more excited to see the reactions (believed to be happy ones) that the rest of the order would have.**

**Sorry for the big gap in updates, after you were all used to getting one almost every day! I'm sorry to say that won't be the case anymore, as I have school, track, and everything in between. Although I'll definitely try to update more than once a month!**

**This one's a bit shorter, but I decided to split it into two parts, it made more sense. Part 1, here we go!**

* * *

"Well. That was… unexpected. She's usually the most level-headed of us all!" Bill spoke quietly, nervous to break the heavy silence that had filled the air since Hermione had stormed out. "Ron, how was she when you went up to see her?"

"She seemed fine, a little tired and weary, but certainly nothing that would explain her… outburst. I asked if she wanted more time to herself but she said she would just come down. I would have forced her to stay if I knew she was going to do that!" Ron seemed determined to make sure nobody thought it was his fault.

Nobody did. Everyone slowly nodded, still trying to process what had happened. Molly was the first to come to her senses.

"Severus! Oh, are you okay? Did she hit you very hard?"

_Only with her words, _he thought, although he would never actually tell anybody that.

Molly ran up to him, laying a hand lightly on his red cheek. A bright hand-shaped mark was already starting to form on his pale skin. He grimaced slightly, more at Molly's affectionate touch than at the pain itself, but he made no efforts to remove her hand. She dragged him into the kitchen, where she quickly prepared a bag of ice. Holding it up to his face, she placed his hand on top of it, making sure he had a firm grip before letting go.

Meanwhile, Ginny was still staring open-mouthed at her father. She had never seen him like this. He had always had a very kind and benevolent demeanor, never had he had an outburst like the one she witnessed a few minutes ago. Arthur noticed her expression, and addressed the still-shocked group.

"I am sorry for my behavior. It's just that, he came to my office today, and explained his situation. How he survived, his interactions – or lack thereof – with Hermione, and everything else. I guess I just got so excited, and expected you to feel the same way. Once I realized you didn't, I, well, I got a bit angry. But of course, that is still inexcusable. Even if I was disappointed with your reaction, I should not have become angry with you all. I apologize." He gave a quick shameful smile to his audience.

That was the father she knew and loved, Ginny thought. Even on the rare occasions where he did step out of his normal behavior, he was quick to apologize and turn right back into his normal self. _It's fair, I guess. We were all pretty shocked out of our socks when our good old professor showed up. I wouldn't be surprised if we all acted differently._ She laughed to herself, suddenly imagining George as a well-dressed gentleman, complete with top hat, tailcoat, and posh accent. _Okay, maybe not _that _different. _

So far, it was up to two people acting far from their usual selves. Hermione and Arthur. But of course, Snape was his usual old grumpy self. Obviously six years and a meeting with death hadn't changed anything. Except for the whole not-being-able-to-talk thing. But Ginny bet she would learn to be okay with it. Rather quickly. A smirk escaped the corner of her mouth.

* * *

Harry seemed to warm up to Severus very quickly, and was soon chatting with him, or_ to_ him. Severus was scrawling his replies on to a piece of parchment, which he then handed to Harry.

Ginny assumed that whatever Harry had seen in Snape's memories had made him forgive him. For everything. _Wow, he must have some interesting stuff stored in that head. For Harry to just completely forgive the man he utterly loathed all through school? And for Severus to just open up to him? And now, he seems so kind, for Snape standards. _

Severus was still being sarcastic, grumpy, and occasionally rude, but compared to how everybody had known him before, he was downright pleasant to be around.

Something _had _happened, Ginny decided. Not something overly important, but just a little thing. Enough to change Severus's outlook on life, even if just a little.

Maybe it was when Arthur told him that while he was… _away_, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had fought his case in court. They had brought so many witnesses, even Dumbledore's portrait, all speaking of Severus's brilliance and true fealty to Dumbledore. Harry even spoke of the memories Snape had given him, which he had never told anyone about before, not even Ron or Hermione.

By the time they were done, it was impossible to think of Snape as anything but an invaluable person in the war. When they began he was a criminal convicted of many crimes, including his supposed 'spy work' for Voldemort. They exited after having the Minister of Magic himself proclaim Severus Snape a war hero, thanks to the trio.

Ron ran up to Ginny. "Merlin, are they _laughing_? How is that… Snape… laughing… that's not possible!"

Ginny giggled. "I think you're right! My goodness, what is happening? But I guess it's better than what he was like before…" She trailed off, Ron nodding his head emphatically.

* * *

When Ginny entered the kitchen, it was to find her mother trotting back and forth between various pots, pans, and bowls scattered throughout the large kitchen. A large piece of cake lay in ruins on the floor, but she had failed to notice it. Ginny started, rushing to the ground where the fallen knife still lay, hoping to save Molly a possibly serious injury.

"Mum!" Molly screeched to a stop. "You could have really hurt yourself! Why didn't you pick up this knife? And this cake? Who dropped it? You could have slipped on the cake _and_ fallen on the knife! I know everyone is stressed out about Snape's sudden return, but please do be careful!" Ginny grabbed the knife's handle and placed it in the sink. Reaching over to grab a cloth, she ran it under some water and then proceeded to wipe up the dropped cake.

Molly sighed. "I'm sorry, Ginny dear. I just… I thought we needed something special to celebrate Snape's, well, survival. I just don't know what to do! Arthur and Hermione both flipped out, Harry and Snape are laughing away in there, everyone is acting differently. It's all so sudden!"

"How about I help you with all this food?"

"Oh that would be lovely. Thank you, honey," Molly moved over so Ginny could join her at the stove.


	7. Aftermath Part 2

**A/N: So, edits aren't finalized for this, but since it is a part two, I decided I shouldn't make you wait TOO long. If there are any mistakes, feel free to tell me, as it's pretty likely that I won't catch all of them myself. I've tried to slow the progress of the story down a bit, I hope you don't mind, I just thought everything was moving a bit too fast. Other than that, enjoy!**

* * *

Hermione sat on the edge of her bead, head in her hands. Her hair was everywhere, no longer staying within the confines of the careful style she had spent many painstaking hours on. Apparently six plus years of rigid hair care regimens had done nothing to tame her bushy mane.

Her face was damp, as well as the front of her lacy blue dress. She was sure she was an absolute mess, but she couldn't care less.

What had happened to her? She was usually so calm, so collected. But seeing _him. _That man, the man who disappeared all those years ago, after the most horrifying and traumatic experience of her life. The man she had shed tears for, both recently and long ago. She had never once suspected her mysterious man to be _Severus Snape_. Sure, thinking back, it looked like him, he acted like him, even without seeing his face she should have guessed. But he was dead, she saw him die! Sure, he was gone when she went to find him, but she just assumed some Death Eater had dragged him away or something. For him to have not only survived (which was a big enough feat in itself), but to have dragged himself away, and to have been in hiding for the past six years? Who wouldn't act differently? Who wouldn't be surprised, or angry? She hoped they weren't too angry with her. Wouldn't they understand why she acted that way?

But Snape. Would he ever forgive her? Sure, he never liked her in the first place, but she _was _pretty harsh. And she _slapped _him! Her professor! It was a darn good thing she wasn't his student anymore, she couldn't even begin to fathom the punishment she would have gotten for that. Even just for what she said, let alone the slap!

Sighing, she wondered what to do. She could get up, clean herself up, and maybe have a cup of tea before bed. This would give her time to mull things over. But did she want that? She might start to overreact, overanalyzing every little detail until her head exploded.

Hermione shook her head. She definitely did not want that.

She looked around her small bedroom; pale blue walls, small photographs in frames sitting on light wooden shelves mounted to the walls. Her bed linens were a creamy white, with pale purple pillows. It was a simple room, a bed, small desk in the corner, but not much else in the way of furniture. But she liked it this way, without the clutter and mess; it allowed her to think clearly. This was where she always came when there was trouble, unless she was at Hogwarts of course. Hermione could come in here, her calm, organized bedroom, and let her mind roam free. There were two doors, one leading to her miniscule bathroom, the other out to the hallway. A large window dominated one wall, looking out onto the quiet street. Normally, daylight shone in, flooding the room in a bright, clean glow. Now, so early in the morning, the mauve curtains were drawn against the dusky charcoal night.

Her eyelids started to droop, and without considering her current attire, hair, make-up, or anything else, she fell back onto the bed, fast asleep.

* * *

Hermione was jolted awake by a loud beeping, and a vibrating coming from under her shoulder. She rubbed her eyes, and her hands came away covered in black smudges. Pushing herself into a sitting position, she felt the multiple aches throughout her body. Groaning, she rose to her feet, and promptly fell over. The position she had been lying in was extremely uncomfortable, and her body now ached from lying like that for hours, especially with her lumpy mobile phone wedged under her shoulder.

Her phone! That was what had woke her. She grabbed the side of the bed and tugged herself up, reaching for her phone. There were two text messages and a missed call from Ginny.

The first read, _Are you all right? We are all worried about you. Did you make it home safely?_

The second, after the initial worrying was done, was more regular Ginny-style. _If you need to talk, I'm always here, I hope you know that. We were all really surprised at Snape's arrival, don't worry, none of us hate you now._

Hermione, still only half awake, let a sleepy smile cross her face. She didn't bother checking the voicemail, presuming more of the same thing. Instead, she typed a quick message back.

_I'm fine, got home safely. I still feel bad about how I acted, talk tomorrow?_

A reply came almost immediately.

_Of course! Good to know you're safe and well. See you at noon, maybe for lunch? _Hermione smiled, Ginny was always eager for her next meal.

_Sounds good, how about Dorothy's? It's a quaint little café near my flat, apparate here and we can walk together?_

_Perfect._

With a quick glance at the clock, she gasped. It was almost 1:30 in the afternoon; she had slept through the entire morning. Hermione was never one for sleeping in, and she was disappointed that she had missed all that time.

A full-height mirror stood against one wall, and Hermione shuffled over to it. She almost collapsed from the sight staring back at her. Black smudges made her look like a raccoon, with smaller black lines running down her cheeks from her tears. Her hair stuck out in all directions, tangled and knotted. It would take hours to comb out. Her dress, thankfully, was fine, albeit maybe a bit rumpled from sleeping in it.

She held her hand in front of her mouth, breathed into it and sniffed. _Uhg. _That would need some serious brushing. Maybe a nice strong mouthwash, too.

It was just past 3:00 in the afternoon when Hermione finally made her way downstairs to her small kitchen. It was amazing how much a good scrub could make you feel better. Fresh breath, clean face and body, and clean, dry, cozy clothes. Her hair was the hard part, taking an hour and a quarter to brush out to a respectable level. It was still not smooth, or tangle-free by any means, but enough that she wasn't in any danger of having to cut it out. The rest she pulled up into a bushy bun, ignoring it for the time being.

Soon there was a big pot on the stove, with a thick soup bubbling away inside. Turning off the heat, she ladled some into a big bowl, grabbed her mug of tea, and settled onto her sofa. She pulled a fluffy blanket around her and pressed the power button on the television remote. Immediately, the small television screen flicked on, showing a middle-aged female reporter seated at a desk.

Hermione had been determined to keep up with muggle news, watching the news reports and even subscribing to a muggle newspaper. But now, what she wanted was not something muggles could give her. She flipped to the wizard news channel, and immediately Snape's face flashed up in front of her eyes.

She should have guessed. Well, she amended, of course it would have been on the news, she just didn't expect it so soon. Not even a day later, and Severus Snape's return was already spreading through wizarding England. She realized then that her TV was still on mute. She must have forgotten to put the volume back on after she muted it when Ronald called her last night. After a moment of searching for the small mute button of the complicated remote, she jabbed at it, and a voice blasted her ears. She hurriedly turned the volume down until it was at a respectable level. Only then did she realize what they were saying.

"… and for six years, the war hero, who we all believed to have been killed at the battle of Hogwarts, joins the world again. It remains unknown what he has done for this time, and we still have no footage or photographs of him since his miraculous return. We have with us today an official from the Ministry of…"

Hermione stopped listening. As far as she was concerned, the Ministry was still absolutely useless. Some aspects had improved slightly, but, especially when it came to war-related matters, they were in no way to be relied on or trusted. With Kingsley as Minister of Magic, things were improving much quicker now, but there was still a lot to be done.

Sighing, she switched back to the muggle news channel. _Ah, good old simple, insignificant muggle issues. _She had decided long ago that muggles focused on the issues that didn't matter in order to help them forget about the ones that did matter, and especially the ones they couldn't fix. She assumed that it also distracted them from the occasional breach of wizard secrecy, like the Weasley's flying car back in her second year at Hogwarts. Oh, she sure remembered how angry Snape got at that.

Oh, there she was. Her mind back on the good old professor. _Stop it, Hermione. Think about other stuff. _She would have plenty of time to talk about every little detail with her best friend the next day; she should just stay carefree and happy for now.


End file.
